


Warm, Blue Love

by kirschtrash



Series: one picture; a thousand words [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU where everyone is happy and there's love everywhere, Alive Marco Bott, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Comfort No Hurt, Comfort Reading, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Mush, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein Fluff, Mindless Fluff, and mindless fluff is acceptable, im glad thats a tag, this 2020 we only reading/writing fluff, we've had enough of hurt in 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23462461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirschtrash/pseuds/kirschtrash
Summary: “Blue always seemed to follow me, ever since I realized I wanted to be with you. I guess it helped draw me closer to you. If that isn't special, I don't know what is.”
Relationships: Marco Bott & Jean Kirstein, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Series: one picture; a thousand words [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687846
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	Warm, Blue Love

**Author's Note:**

> the world is in severe need of warmth and happiness and i am here from the depths of hell (i.e. the worst writers block to date) to provide u all with some OG fluffy content. enjoy, my loves <3
> 
> Inspired by [this photo](https://twitter.com/instaghibli/status/1238499543127412737/photo/4)!

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

The answer came without a pause for thought. It caught Jean by surprise.

“Why?”

Now, that got Marco thinking. Jean sat up, leaning on his elbows. His gaze didn’t leave Marco, who was now chewing on his lower lip, lost in deep thought. An old habit of his.

A gust of wind ran over the pair, who were sprawled on green, lush grass, dotted with a million flowers, each one different than the last. White tufts of clouds spotted the blue sky sparingly, drifting to the left in unison. Birds chirped around them constantly, their frenzied movements causing the ring of trees surrounding them to shiver and rustle as if they were alive. But it didn’t faze Jean one bit - not when he was so focused on looking at Marco; black strands falling on his forehead, warm brown eyes watching the clouds trail across the sky, freckles dotting his warm skin like stars scattered on a night sky, and…

Jean caught himself, feeling a small smile tug at his lips. _An old habit of his_.

By then, Marco had lifted his hands off of his stomach, crossing them underneath his head. A single buttercup bent towards the right side of his face, it’s yellow petals hugging his cheek. He tore his stare away from the clouds, and looked at Jean.

“Well, I mean… blue is just beautiful in every form, isn’t it?” he said. “The blue that you see in the afternoon sky, and the blue that creeps up during the night. I mean, they’re basically the same color, and yet they feel so... different, don’t they?"

Jean nodded. He didn’t know whether it was because of how eloquently Marco could draw such comparisons out of thin air, or whether it was because of the way he spoke: his voice gentle, reflecting pure interest, sincerity, joy over something as mundane as a preferred color.

“A color like blue has so much meaning,” he laughed, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. “Like, blue can be sorrow, happiness, loneliness, peace - it can mean anything. I guess that makes it a bit extraordinary, doesn’t it?”

Jean nodded again, amazed at how Marco could see the whole world with such a different lens from others. It had always surprised Jean at how easily he could find beauty in a world that was so quick to be ruthless.

_Well, he’s different, after all. He’s always been different._

He might have stayed silent for a bit too long, because Marco blinked twice, before burying his face in his palms.

“Ah, look at me,” he wailed, voice muffled because of his hands. “Going off again, like someone who’s opened their third eye or something-”

“Shut up,” Jean said, before he could really hold himself back. His fingers began tracing the petals of a tiny blue flower that stood beside his hip. (a ‘ _morning glory_ ’, Marco once told him). “That’s a really… really thoughtful answer. I loved it.”

That must have done the job, because Marco didn’t protest. Instead, he peeked through the gaps between his fingers, studying Jean’s expression before resting his hands back on top of his belly. Marco was no longer looking at the clouds, or the flowers. He was smiling at Jean.

His chest grew warm, as a single word echoed in Jean’s mind: _mine_.

“One more question,” Jean asked, as he swept Marco’s dark bangs away from his eyes. God, he could get used to that.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

A blush crept up on his cheeks, and he didn’t bother to hide it.

“What does blue make you feel?”

“Special.”

Again, no pause.

“Why?”

“Because it was the color of my shirt I wore the day I asked you out. I mean, I remember having worn green, but then a bird shit all over me, and I had to change. I mean, I’m still mad about that damned bird ruining a perfectly good shirt…”

I laughed, expecting yet another rant about how birds loved ruining his plans - but then, Marco broke his own pause:

“Well, I can’t be mad at the cards I was dealt with if it meant I could get closer to you.”

That made me stop. When I turned to look at him, I was met by his stare. Warm, like sunlight.

He was now on his side, his cheek resting on his palm. A small smile played on his lips, as he reached out towards the same morning glory. When their fingers touched, his smile widened.

“Blue also happened to be the same color you wore the day we first kissed, right? Even on our first date, we spent staring up at the blue, blue sky.”

How could Jean forget that day? He had been so nervous when they met after having confessed to one another, especially in a place so distant: an enclosure just on the outskirts of their town, hidden away behind thick trees. Jean remembered being surprised at that suggestion, and he also remembered Marco’s response at his expression: he just smiled. _You’ll see the magic yourself_ , was all that he had said.

And lo and behold, he did; what looked like a remote circling of trees from afar was actually a patch of greenery filled to the brim with flowers of all colors. There were dandelions, buttercups, daisies, and so many more than Jean couldn’t even name. They swayed along every gust of wind, dancing as if they were rejoicing the coming of spring.

“How did you find this place…?” Jean had asked, his breath leaving his chest at the sight.

“Well… this place found me, really,” Marco replied. “Kinda like a present. And I wanted us to enjoy this gift together.”

_Together_. For once, Jean was not afraid of hearing that word.

And with that, they had laid on the ground, supple, colorful petals tickling their cheeks, and watched the sky turn from a brilliant light blue to a darker Prussian blue. The pair hadn’t stopped talking until the glaring sun had set, and there were a dozen stars blinking down at them from up above.

Jean remembered whispering - to himself, to the flowers around him, or to the universe: “The sky is so beautiful - sometimes I forget it’s just one color...”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s beautiful,” Marco whispered back.

But when Jean turned to look at him, he wasn’t staring up at the blue, twinkling sky. No, he was looking at him, eyes glimmering with something that looked a lot like love.

That night when they held hands, flowers gently brushing against their wrists, Jean finally understood what warmth felt like. He had realized he never wanted that feeling to vanish.

  
Marco’s gentle voice brought Jean back to the present:

“Blue always seemed to follow me, ever since I realized I wanted to be with you. I guess it helped draw me closer to you. If that isn't special, I don't know what is.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest again, as their fingers intertwined.

  
Would Jean have been able to feel this without Marco? Would he have ever encountered such magnificence in a world so bleak? Would he have ever found gems hidden beneath rubble - or magic hidden in plain sight - if it weren’t for Marco?

Jean doubted it the day they first held hands, and he doubted it even now. But that didn’t scare him anymore.

In fact, he was glad. Happy, even. He had someone who could find beauty where others found something ordinary. For once, he could fall in love with the world he had grown to hate with someone by his side. A miracle.

His miracle, who was sprawled on a bed of flowers, with stars dancing on his skin, and love glimmering in his eyes.

_My miracle, who loved the color blue._

**Author's Note:**

> did u like it??? hate it???? think it was rlly cheesy and pretentious????? let me know in the comments pls i'd love to interact with you all again
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](https://kirschtrash.tumblr.com/%22) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/kirschtrash) my dudes
> 
> until next time <3


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